


Shoe Shine Boy

by SamoanSexGodReigns



Series: I Won't Say I'm in Love [3]
Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Boot Worship, Do not post to another site, Established Relationship, F/M, Femdom, Impact Play, Kayfabe Compliant, Kinktober 2018, Rough Sex, Vaginal Sex, all the horse jokes, no beta we die like men, they be fuckin backstage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 08:00:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21352879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamoanSexGodReigns/pseuds/SamoanSexGodReigns
Summary: Rhea's pissed after the Horsewomen interfere in her match with Shayna, and Pete graciously offers to let her take out her anger on him.
Relationships: Pete Dunne/Rhea Ripley
Series: I Won't Say I'm in Love [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1512842
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	Shoe Shine Boy

**Author's Note:**

> This has been written for like a month, but I wanted to post in order, so I've been sitting on it impatiently this whole time. Now, I finally release it into the wild!
> 
> Set immediately after the 9/11/19 episode of NXT.

Rhea stomps through the backstage area at Full Sail, and everyone else cuts her a wide berth. She’s fuckin’ fuming. She can’t believe those horse-faced bitches had the audacity to come down and interfere in her match. Well, she showed them. You don’t mess with Rhea Ripley, and you certainly don’t try to hit her with a _fuckin’ chair_. When she got her hands on those equine skanks, she was going to send them all straight to the glue factory. Storming into her locker room she slams the door behind her letting the sound reverberate in the room while her anger does the same in her skull. There’s a red film coloring her vision, and she’s practically shaking with her rage, jerky little movements that work across the line of her shoulders and down her arms into clenched fists. She’s so lost to it, so lost in thinking about every viciously violent way she’s going to pay back Shayna and her filly friends, that she doesn’t even see him at first, doesn’t register his presence. It’s the sound of his boldly clearing throat that forces her attention to the man in front of her.

He’s standing there casually, already showered and civilized where he leans against gray concrete. It pisses her off how relaxed he looks. “What the fuck are you doing in here?” she snarls. 

He sucks his breath in through his teeth and pushes off the wall to walk towards her. “I saw what happened out there.” He shrugs, standing in front of her now. “I thought you might like someone to take it out on.” 

He looks eager though he tries so hard to hide the anticipation in his eyes behind a mask of indifference. She can feel herself softening, anger dampening under a rain of some sweet emotion that Rhea doesn’t have time for. Curling her lip in a sneer, she scoffs at him. “You think you know what I want, Petey boy?”

“Yeah, I think I do.”

“Show me.” she challenges.

Pete’s knees instantly hit the floor, and he bends forward to kiss the toe of her left boot. He licks one long slow line up the center of the boot, over decorative straps and chains, to the blue fabric of her wrestling tights. She can’t really feel anything other than the pressure of his tongue, but she swears she can feel the heat of it seeping through her boot, can feel the wet drag of it over her adrenaline sensitive skin. Her body wants to shiver, and she cuts it off at her neck, tingles forcibly distributing down her arms as uncontrollable goosebumps. He licks his way back down the shaft of the boot, tongue catching on the buckles, before continuing to lick down over the laces. He sweeps his tongue over the toe of her boot until it’s glossy with spit, and then he drags it over the left side to the heel and back again before showing the same attention to the right side. He’s about to suck a silver chain into his mouth, but she taps her foot against his chin hard enough that his teeth click together audibly. 

“That’s enough. Next one.” 

Pete makes no sound, no complaint, just seamlessly transitions to her right boot. He starts at the heel on the left side and then moves back towards the toe and around the right side to the other heel. He’s an obedient little thing when he wants to be. After shining the toe and vamp of her boot with his mouth, he licks back up the shaft. He purposefully maintains eye contact with her this time as he sucks the chain between his lips and flicks over it in a mimicry of the way he licks her clit. She knows how talented that mouth is, has felt it bring her pleasure in countless ways, and arousal trickles down the tight-rope of her spine as phantom sparks light up her pelvis.

After he’s thoroughly cleaned her right boot, he tries to switch back to the left, just in case he’s missed a spot, but she stops him with a few simple words. “Don’t be greedy.”

He reverently kisses the toe of each boot once more and then settles back onto his knees in front of her. He settles palms down on his thighs, and Rhea’s gaze is drawn to the erection bulging behind the zipper of Pete’s jeans. The fact that Pete gets hard just from licking her boots stokes the sparks in her pelvis into a marshmallow-roasting fire that melts sticky sweet into her pussy. He’s just kneeling there, completely still, waiting for her to make a move and staring up at her with eyes that devour. That soft feeling is back in her chest, and it makes her heart feel squishy and unpleasant, and she’s positive she doesn’t like the feeling, so she hides it behind a derisive snicker. 

“You hard for my boots, Petey boy?” she asks, lifting a foot to press it over his erection.

Pete swallows once. “Yes, ma’am.”

She presses down harder with her foot grinding the toe of her boot into Pete’s cock hard enough that a grunt gets caught in his chest, but he doesn’t move away. “And what did you think you were going to be doing with this?” she inquires mockingly.

“I didn’t think I’d be doing anything with it, ma’am.”

“That’s right, you’re not going to be doing anything with it. _I am_.” 

She kicks him in the center of his chest, and he lands flat on his back, dazed, with his legs sprawled out in front of him. Rhea doesn’t give him time to recover just straddles his hips and then pins his wrists to the scratchy cheap carpet of the locker room. His cock is hard and tempting where it settles against her cunt, and she doesn’t resist the urge to grind against him a few times. He inhales sharply through his nose, and his hips jerk under hers on pure instinct, seeking more contact. She releases one of his wrists long enough to pull back and slap him across the face with an open palm before trapping his wrist again.

“Don’t fucking move.”

Pete runs his tongue over the inside of his lips, checking for blood, and it draws Rhea’s eyes to his mouth and the way it’s framed just so by his facial hair. She loves his mouth. His dirty filthy sinful fuckin mouth. He could get her to do almost anything with that mouth, and they both knew it. It doesn’t stop Rhea from lying to herself about it, though. Frustrated, she leans down to kiss him – hard. So hard she can feel the outline of each of his teeth through their lips, and she pulls back enough to sink her teeth into the plushness of his bottom lip. His cock twitches between her legs, his mouth opens on a moan, and Rhea seizes her opportunity to charge inside. Their tongues tangle together in an erotic game of cat-and-mouse that she’s determined to win. She sucks his tongue into her mouth and bobs her head over it in her own imitation of oral sex as she grinds down into his lap again. He groans into her mouth, and she breathes it in like oxygen as his tongue retreats, and she smiles in triumph. She loves winning.

When she pulls back, Pete’s eyes are unfocused and cloudy with desire. She can feel his chest heaving beneath her as he gasps to keep up with a heart pumping blood double-time to his prick. There’s a blooming red spot on Pete’s cheek from where she’d slapped him earlier, and she slaps him across the other side, so they match. “You look so good in red, Petey boy.” 

She’s slapped him hard enough this time that she’s split his lip and blood wells to the surface. He sweeps his tongue over it to wipe it away, and something about that crimson smear on kiss swollen lips sets her off. That marshmallow fire in her gut was forgotten in the backyard of her mind, but now it grows into a wildfire that burns indiscriminately through the neighborhood of her body, and she dives back down to claim Pete’s mouth. It’s all teeth and tongues and copper as they kiss and nip each other bloody. When they separate, they’re both breathless, and Rhea can feel the tacky feeling of drying blood over her chin. She pokes at the gash Pete bit into her lip just to savor the sting.

“Get your fuckin’ dick out.”

She sits up and releases his hands, and he immediately goes for the button and fly of his pants so he can follow her instructions. Once his cock is free, Rhea spits into her palm and tugs at it a few times just to feel him flex in her hand. Pre-cum beads pearlescent at the tip before rolling down and mixing with her saliva as she strokes him.

“You’re such a slut for me, Petey boy, getting hot off my boots and me slapping you around. Look at you, staying late, and sneaking into my locker room just so you can get a fix. You keep telling yourself that it’s just to help me, but it’s about you, Petey boy. Truth is, you love what I do to you, you fuckin’ _crave_ it. That’s really why you’re here, isn’t it?"

His eyes flicker over her face ardently, all masks and pretenses gone, and she sees the depth of feeling in his crystalline blue eyes. It’s adoration and devotion and lust and lo – Rhea stops herself right there, refusing to even think it, but that doesn’t stop the same emotions from seeping into her own sapphire eyes for Pete to see. 

Desperately seeking a distraction from unfamiliar sentiments, Rhea lifts up enough to yank her tights down around her thighs and then impales herself on Pete’s cock. A shout rips out of Pete like he’s been shot, and Rhea has to cover his mouth to muffle the sound. “Shut the fuck up. If we get caught, this never happens again.” No one knew about Rhea and Pete or their status as a not-couple, and Rhea wanted to keep it that way. Even if they did get caught, though, Rhea doesn’t think she’d actually stop fucking around with Pete. She enjoys toying with him too much for that, but he doesn’t need to know that.

Pete’s cock is the perfect width, and it stretches Rhea’s pussy just enough to leave her feeling deliciously full. It’s also the perfect length to rub over her g-spot on every thrust at this angle, and she grinds her hips against his just to feel those deep shocks of pleasure electrify her veins. She sets a punishing pace, lifting her hips and then slapping them back down and rocking for clitoral stimulation. It’s fast, and it’s furious, and they’re both panting like animals as sweat gathers on both their brows. Rhea knows they won’t last long, doesn’t want them to, can tell from the erratic way Pete meets her thrusts and the almost painful tightening in her pelvis. She wraps one hand around his neck and squeezes, not enough to cut off his air supply but enough to limit it.

“Thought I told you not to move, Petey boy.”

He goes still beneath her even though every muscle in his body is begging him to move, to chase the orgasm he’s on the brink of. Rhea admires his control, but it’s not what she really wants. She needs Pete to lose control. As much as she respects his ability to keep himself in check, she fuckin _relishes_ the feeling of making him forget that the word ‘control’ even exists. She starts to ride him faster, and for a moment, she’s thankful that she left her pants on or she’d have some killer friction burn when this was over. Her thigh muscles are clenched and cramping with the effort of keeping up her lightning-quick pace and her impending release, but she ignores her discomfort like she ignores the sentimental feeling in her chest.

“You wanna make me feel better?” He nods frantically. “Then make me cum, Petey boy. I’m so close.” she whines, high-pitched and needy, and exactly the way she knows gets under Pete’s skin the most.

He grabs her by the hips, hard enough to leave finger-shaped bruises, and drives his cock up into her. “Always want to make you cum, Rhea, want to make you cum like it’s my fuckin destiny.” he rasps around his choked raw esophagus, and that’s all it takes. Rhea rattles apart in Pete’s lap like a 1996 Honda and screams her euphoria even though she told Pete _not_ to do the same thing. He doesn’t say anything though, just rolls his hips into her orgasming pussy a few more times, and then injects her with his hot cum. She collapses on top of him, and he wraps his arms tight around her and nuzzles into her sweat-damp hair. It is not an intimate moment.

When they’ve both caught their breath, Rhea stands up and starts towards her bag. She barely makes it a step before Pete grabs one of her ankles. He stares up at her from his spot on the floor and says plaintively, “Let me.” Then Pete starts to untie her boots. When they’re loose enough, she steps out of them and turns to the bench where her bag sits. She removes her shirt and then strips out of her tights. She can feel her own wetness and Pete’s cum squelching between her thighs, and she lets a bright satisfied smile curl her lips since Pete can’t see it. She can feel him staring at her, though, can feel the way his eyes linger on her ass, and okay, maybe she didn’t have to bend over so far to open her bag but whatever. 

She’s got clean pants on and is just sliding into a clean t-shirt when Pete’s voice breaks the silence. “Are you feeling any better?” 

Not surprisingly, she is. Her muscles are loose and relaxed and glowing beneath her skin. Her head feels fuzzy as it works to process all the pretty chemicals Pete just released in her brain. She doesn’t even remember what a horse is. “Yeah, Petey boy, yeah, I am.” She turns around and slings her bag over her shoulder before pointedly eyeing his still exposed cock. “Wait at least five minutes after I leave before you do. I don’t want anyone seeing us together.” 

She catches a glimpse of him reaching to shove his dick back into his pants, but then she’s heading to the door without a backward glance. She can hear him struggling to his feet on bliss-jelly legs and an annoyed, “Wait!” behind her, but she doesn’t stop until her hand is on the doorknob. 

“If you want to keep making me feel better, come to my place after you leave here,” she says with an aloof glance over her shoulder. 

Then she’s opening the door and walking out into the hallway without waiting for him to respond like she doesn’t even care either way, but honestly, there was never a chance that Pete _wasn’t_ going to follow her.

**End**

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Kinktober 2018 Day 25 prompt - boot worship


End file.
